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Secretly Slytherin	By : Veresna Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 12269 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 25
- 26
- 27
Chapter 26: Conversations and Confidences
When Helena next opened her eyes, the cold gray light of early morning had just begun to lighten the room. She had managed, it seemed, to fall into a dreamless sleep, but she could not say that she felt very much rested. Nor did it seem as if the persistent tenderness in her leg, ribcage and head was going to go away any time soon. She considered sneaking another dose of medicine out of the other bottle, but decided against it. If she watered down that bottle any more it was going to be too weak to be effective. And besides, it was probably time for her to "officially" ring the bell and request another dose anyway.
The other pressing problem was the fact that she definitely needed to use the bedpan. Luckily, she could see where it was stored in the corner of the cubicle, so she was able to raise her wand and use the ‘Accio’ spell to call it, and the roll of paper, over to her. Managing to toss off the necessary covers and perform a levitating spell on herself, without disturbing her throbbing left leg too much, was a bit more difficult, but she finally managed it. She examined herself carefully as she wiped. She had been quite shocked the first time that Pomfrey had lifted her up unto the bedpan and she had seen that her pubic hair had suddenly grown back. But she hoped she had managed to cover her surprise. It confirmed to her that she had, indeed, seen Snape standing beside Pomfrey during her very confused delirium brought on by the concussion when she was first brought in. She wondered how he had managed to effect the charm with Madam Pomfrey looking on.
She sighed and took up her wand again, managing somehow to set the bedpan back on the floor without spilling it all over herself or the bed. She straightened the covers as best she could, and levitated a rag from off of the counter to cover the filled receptacle.
She plumped the pillows behind her head and lay back with a sigh. She now dearly wished that she had not been so hasty to dismiss Severus yesterday. She found herself desperately wanting to talk to him and to find out what exactly he and Malfoy had said to each other. Although she wondered, of course, if she could trust Snape to tell her the truth. Especially since she had been so cold to him yesterday and stupid enough to tell him that she intended to leave him and go after Lewis. She could imagine him standing there with one of his trademark smirks upon his face, his head tilted and his eyebrow raised as he mocked her, refusing to tell her a single thing until she had apologized and tearfully begged to be taken back into his bed.
She frowned and shook her head. As rightfully proud as she was of her ability to come up with quite suitable and intricately detailed lies off the top of her head, she still had the unfortunate habit of blurting out crucial pieces of truth that would have been better off unsaid. Even if she had still been angry with Severus and wanted to hurt him by telling him that she was going to seduce Lewis, it certainly was just the latest example of her being stupidly truthful at the wrong moment. The first example being…..
She sighed again, cursing herself for the thousandth time. Why the hell had she been foolish enough to tell Severus that her father was a Death Eater in the first place? She shrugged her shoulders at the memory. Oh, well, to be honest she knew exactly why she had said it. Despite all the rumors that had swirled around Snape, she had always firmly and quietly believed that anyone who wrapped himself in black and stalked around with such a venomous expression upon his face was more intent on convincing people that he had villainous intentions rather than being truly evil. She had dismissed the rumors of his involvement with Voldemort and the Death Eaters as malicious gossip, telling herself that he himself might have encouraged the whispers as a way of ensuring that he kept a firm grip on his hold as the current head of Slytherin, since that house was so closely associated with the Dark Lord. Her own fear and respect for Dumbledore’s abilities had ensured that she was certain that if the Headmaster chose to trust him, he must have good reasons to believe in his fidelity.
Her first reaction at actually seeing his Dark Mark had been one of revulsion and fear. Revulsion at knowing without a doubt exactly the kind of man he had certainly once been, and what he might truly be again. And simple fear at knowing that it was a (hopefully former) Death Eater that she had just managed to humiliate with a potion and a curse-not the best course of action if one wanted to stay alive and in one piece.
So, as a protective action-to convey to him that she had relatives who would not stand idly by if he chose to hurt her, and also simply to try to pretend that the sight had not frightened her, she had coolly responded that "she was sure her father had one." How many times she had wished she could have taken those words back and made some other response. It would have been better, she reflected in retrospect, to have dropped to her knees and screamed or cried. At least then he would have surmised that she was duly and properly in fear of him. Instead, her nonchalant response had rather insulted him and undoubtedly set him off on the mission that he pursued with an indefatigable energy to find out for himself whether or not her father truly was a Death Eater.
And within a few short hours he had been asking her pointed questions regarding Slytherin, and why she hadn’t been sorted into the house. She had thought it best to answer lightly that she didn’t think her father was disappointed that she had been sorted into Ravenclaw instead. (She allowed herself a small snort of disdain as she remembered Malfoy’s comment that it was "a shame she had not been sorted into Slytherin". She knew for a fact that at the time he had been most anxious to make sure that she wasn’t put into that house.) She had seen no reason to correct what she supposed was Snape’s assumption that Herbert Harrison must have been a Slytherin, thinking that ignoring the implication rather than correcting him would falsely lull him into the assurance that he was right and help make a quick end to his questioning. Instead, she grunted in disgust, she had played right into his hands. For, she found out later, he had already seen Herbert Harrison’s name on the Hufflepuff Quidditch Cups, so the proper response on her part should have been a horrified denial that any of her family had ever been in Slytherin.
Of course, she thought, suddenly sitting upright against the pillows-he had also made some comment about Draco that night hadn’t he? And about his duel with Potter? At the time, she had dismissed it as a sign of what she truly thought was his worst character flaw-his overwhelming jealousy and hatred of Potter which bordered on the line of dangerously obsessive behavior. Now, of course, she wondered if he had already begun to suspect that Lucius was her father. But, if so-why?
Her head was achy and pounding again. She closed her eyes and tentatively rubbed at the temples with her fingertips-but found that the motion only increased rather than relieved the pain. Of course, she considered, apparently no one-even other Death Eaters-had ever been quite sure of just exactly who had sworn allegiance to the Dark Lord. But, Snape might have been one of Voldemort’s closest confidantes and therefore more certain of who the followers were. He might have had a better idea than most of who was left to go free when the others had been imprisoned, given directly to the dementors or killed.
She turned over, trying to find a more comfortable position for her aching body muscles without twisting her injured leg in the process. There had, of course, been rumors that many Death Eaters had pleaded "being under the influence of Imperio" as an excuse for what they had done. And others, with ties to wealth, influence or popular opinion, had also been released. She had assumed that Snape, whatever his original reasons for joining up with Voldemort, had turned over a new leaf and dedicated himself to working for Albus Dumbledore. She had been convinced that his long association with Hogwarts may have been simply that he had thrown himself upon the mercy of the Headmaster and had been rewarded with a position that protected him from some of his unhappy former comrades, even if it gave him no personal satisfaction. His admission on the day of her party that members of the "inner circle" were aware that he had recently "deflowered a virgin" had again startled her, because that could only mean he had renewed his association with the Death Eaters. So the question was, she sighed, was he a spy for Voldemort or for Dumbledore?
She thought back to Malfoy’s letter. Surely Malfoy would never have spoken to Snape about her if he were not sure of his loyalty? But then, if Snape was a good enough spy to maintain his cover for the past fifteen years, there was no reason for Malfoy to doubt him now, was there? And-she groaned as a fresh throbbing started in both her leg and her head-since Malfoy undoubtedly had the pictures and the socks he was in a fairly good position to demand that Snape tell him anything he wanted to know, wasn’t he?
Of course, she admitted, there was always the chance that Severus had no true loyalty to anyone, and was merely playing one side against the other in a desperate bid to keep afloat (and alive) until one foe had truly vanquished the other. At which time he would be able to promote himself as a "true follower" of the victor all along.
She turned unto her back again and studied the ceiling in frustration. She sincerely hoped that Severus had not returned to Voldemort’s service. However, she admitted to herself, it would at least mean he might be in a strong enough position to provide her some protection from Malfoy. For she had no doubt that Lucius Malfoy was, in the past and in the present, one of the Dark Lord’s most faithful of servants. And she hated and feared him with a seemingly bottomless passion. And had done so ever since that horrible morning when she had finally and irrevocably had to face the truth that he was her father.
She laughed quietly, despair underlying her tone of forced merriment. That was really the ironic part, wasn’t it? She truly despised and dreaded Lucius Malfoy, not the least because she knew that to this day her poor sweet, gentle mother was still hopelessly in love with the damned man. Just as deeply and as inexplicably as her proud, unbending grandmother had been in love with Malcolm Smythe-Forbush, an apparently timid and mousy little man whose death so many years ago had left the woman initially inconsolable and ultimately bitter and vengeful. Part of her had pitied (in a most condescending way) and despised the two women for being so weak.
Yet, she was very much starting to fear, she was just as passionately and helplessly starting to fall in love with Severus. And the thought of that scared the hell out of her.
Which is why, she admitted to herself, a part of her had been so ready to abandon him and to pursue a relationship with Lewis. Besides her gratitude to the young man, and her desire to try and hurt Severus after the cruel things he had said, of course. There was a part of her that was hoping that to settle for a nice, safe relationship with Lewis would mean she could protect her from becoming too deeply involved with the brooding, complex man.
She laughed shortly.
***Oh, my. I can only guess that my mother had similar thoughts when she duped Harrison into marrying her. ‘Why not marry him? I’ll have someone to look after me and my child. Even if I’m not with the man I love, I’ll have a stable relationship.’ And I have grown up seeing the consequences. Two people, bound together by duty and habit, relentlessly and horrifyingly unhappy. My father, blind to her devotion to another man because he is too busy seeking out new sex partners. My mother, starving herself and trying to buy enough clothes and jewels to attract the attentions of a man she never truly had.***
"Helena?"
She started out of her reverie. Madam Pomfrey was standing by the side of the bed, holding a tray.
"Ready for breakfast, dear?" she asked, placing the tray down and wheeling the table over. She delicately tiptoed around the bedpan. "I see you took care of yourself this morning?" she noted pointedly.
"I didn’t see a need to wake you," replied Helena hurriedly, detecting a note of irritation in the woman’s voice.
Pomfrey shrugged and smile. "I know you’re anxious to begin your Mediwitch training, but that doesn’t mean you get to practice on yourself," she scolded.
***Oops, guess I better hope you don’t find out I’ve been dosing myself too.***
The Mediwitch pointed her wand at the bedpan and a second later it was clean and empty and being whisked back to its spot under the table.
"You must be feeling better?" she observed.
Helena took a moment to study the tray. There was an assortment of food-eggs, toast and porridge. And a small pot of tea. She poured out a cup and drizzled some honey into her porridge, ignoring the rest of the food.
"Well, I think I am. But," she paused and sighed, "I still seem to be awfully achy." She began to hungrily spoon the porridge into her mouth.
"And you will be for days," replied Pomfrey. "You will find that the speed at which Mediwizardry speeds up the healing process leads to its own assortment of aches and pains as your body adjusts to the ‘knitting’ up of the bones and the rapid formation of new tissue and blood vessels." She bustled out of the room again.
Helena nodded abstractedly and concentrated on her food. After finishing the first bowl, more magically appeared and she ate half of a second. Then she munched on a piece of toast and finished off a second cup of tea. Apparently, that was her limit as no more tea appeared after she had drained her cup. She folded her napkin and pushed the tray away.
Pomfrey had come back into the room with a basin of hot, clear water and large bar of soap. After disposing of the food tray, she set the basin down on the table and measured out another dose from bottle. To Helena’s relief, it appeared that she had not noticed that the medicine had been slightly watered down.
As Helena swallowed the dose, the Mediwitch sat down in the chair next to the bed, a very grave expression on her face. Helena waited for her to speak.
"Lewis and your roommates are going to be stopping by in about half an hour," she began.
Helena nodded. "Yes, I should probably wash up a bit and get on a clean gown," she noted. She smiled playfully. "Do you think I have time to do something with my hair? I rather hate to have Lewis see me looking a mess."
Pomfrey nodded, but her mouth was grim. "Mr. Thurston is certainly a very nice, and a very attractive young man. And undoubtedly very fond of you."
Helena dropped her eyes and studied the edge of her blanket. There was something quite troubling about Pomfrey’s tone, and she wasn’t sure that she wanted to make any kind of reply to her without knowing what was obviously bothering the Mediwitch.
"And, he certainly deserves your thanks for taking charge of the situation as he did yesterday."
Helena looked up and nodded, still waiting for Pomfrey to show her hand.
"But flying into Mr. Thurston’s arms just because you have had an argument with the man with whom you are having a very unwise affair is not a prudent thing to do, dear. Even if I would personally prefer to see you with someone your own age."
Helena felt her face go pale for a moment, and then felt it burn hotly as a blush began to spread across it. She dropped her eyes back down again and considered what to say. In the end, afraid that anything she could think of saying would only condemn her more rapidly, she said nothing. Although no names had as yet been named, the implication that she had been having an affair with an older man was definitely too near the mark to be coincidence.
"Is there something you would like to tell me, Helena?" asked Pomfrey, quietly.
Helena let the seconds tick by as she considered her options. Absolute denial seemed out of the question, for she had no doubt that Pomfrey wouldn’t be asking her about it if she didn’t have some kind of evidence. However, that didn’t mean she had to tell her more than she already knew. She looked back up at the Mediwitch and shrugged.
She took in a deep breath. "Why don’t you tell me what you think you know?" she answered. Part of her hated herself for being so defensive and obviously obstructive, but she had no wish to admit to more than what the woman could prove conclusively was going on between herself and Snape.
There was a hint of disappointment in the other woman’s face, but she contented herself with nodding. After another short, awkward pause, the Mediwitch sighed and began to speak.
"I know that when you first came in here, you were mumbling things-fairly incoherently-but I thought you might be saying some things that were rather strange."
Helena frowned and nodded. She wondered what exactly she had said that would make Pomfrey link her to Snape. Since she wasn’t sure, she thought it was better not to make any comment.
"And then I did a quick magical scan of you to try and assess your injuries. The spell that I used is designed to not only tell me what physical problems you have, but to check to make sure that you are not under any magical spells or enchantments." Pomfrey paused again, as if waiting for Helena to volunteer some information.
The girl looked slightly puzzled, and said nothing. Surely by now all of the ‘Lover’s Weed’ had left her system?
"And, while I found no evidence of that, I could clearly detect that you had a fairly large dose of some kind of potion flowing in your veins," she continued.
Helena closed her eyes and rubbed her nose distractedly as she realized the import of those words.
"It was clearly a contraceptive potion," she clarified. "And later, as I made more tests, it became evident that it was not any simple, easy-to-make one either. A directed potion-containing a wizard’s semen and providing a prophylactic effect only against that man’s sperm. A potion like that requires a list of fairly expensive ingredients, not to mention a great deal of skill and expertise to prepare."
***Someone like, oh, say, a Potion’s Master?***
Helena remained silent and waited for Pomfrey to continue. She could, she supposed, argue that she had bought it somewhere.
"As I said, I did not immediately realize how intricate a potion it was. But, I had already been more than a little startled to find, shall we say, a ‘decoration’ on your body? The letter ‘S’ rather prominently displayed on a most private area?" she added, delicately.
"There are lots of males at Hogwarts who have ‘S’ in their initials," Helena protested, weakly.
"Yes, dear, of course. But, the fact that it disappeared after you had been visited by Professor Snape was exceptionally odd, don’t you think?"
Helena closed her eyes again.
***Gee, what’s the only thing more damning than leaving evidence in place? Uh, getting caught removing it, of course.***
"And, afterwards, after he had left, you started mumbling again. This time, you clearly kept saying there was something that you ‘had to tell Severus’ about."
Helena groaned and bit down on her lip. What was it he had warned her about when she was first so upset that he didn’t want her calling him by his first name? Oh yes-"I would rather you not fall into the habit using it. Since it would be most awkward for someone to accidentally overhear you address me by it."
***Give that man a cigar, folks, he’s right again. Damn it, Professor, couldn’t you be wrong just ONCE?***
"And I only know one Severus. Though, you sounded rather angry and also referred to him as-well, let’s just say there were a few choice epithets you threw at him. Which," Pomfrey added dryly, "also seemed to match his well-known sparkling personality and fastidious grooming habits."
Helena opened her eyes and began to idly draw circles on the blanket with her fingertips.
***Let’s see: Smarmy, slick, sarcastic sonofabitch? Black-eyed, black-haired bastard? Goddamned greasy-haired git? Yep, you can be pretty sure to whom I was referring, can’t you?***
She finally raised her head back up to look at Pomfrey. "And how much of this have you already told Professor Dumbledore?"
Pomfrey gaze was firm and steady. "None of it." The two women stared at each other for a moment. "So far," added the Mediwitch.
Helena abruptly stopped the motion of her hand and nodded. "What’s stopping you?"
Pomfrey sighed. "If you were anything but an extremely mature eighteen-year-old seventh year, who is just about to leave Hogwarts and begin a University career-at which time neither you nor Professor Snape will be violating school rules-I would have spoken to him immediately."
Helena looked at her quietly, biting her lip and hoping against hope that Pomfrey would keep her silence.
"Furthermore, it became clear to me that he was truly very concerned about you yesterday," she noted. "He has NEVER before offered to help me make a potion unless there was a major catastrophe." She paused again. "For him to have become so attached to a Ravenclaw leads me to believe that the relationship is more than a passing fancy. For Severus is surely not a man given to maudlin sentimentality."
Helena couldn’t help but sniff at that assessment. And then she brought her hands in front of her and clasped them together tightly. Inwardly she was still praying that Pomfrey was going to be successful in her apparent attempt to persuade herself not to say a word to anyone about the incident.
"And," continued the older woman, "I admit that if it did not involve one of my favorite students and a man I have known and trusted for over twenty years as a pupil and a colleague, I doubt that I would have kept silent. But I must be assured….." She hesitated again.
Helena kept her face blank while her mind feverishly pursued the possibility that Pomfrey was as anxious as she and Snape were to keep the scandal from becoming public knowledge? Especially since she had just so publicly trumpeted to the wizarding world at large what an exceptional student she was. Which was a rather cynical assessment of the situation. But, she admitted to herself, under the current circumstances, she was certainly in no position to argue moral fine points.
After a few moments, Pomfrey appeared to have collected her thoughts and began again: "Did Professor Snape use his position as your teacher to intimidate you into having this relationship?"
Helena found herself sighing with relief before she shook her head and intoned, firmly, "No. Our relationship is strictly consensual."
Pomfrey pursed her lips. "Which does not excuse his behavior."
Helena waited in silence, afraid that anything she might say in his defense would only anger the Mediwitch more, and veer her away from her apparent willingness to accept the situation.
"And will you swear something else to me?" asked Pomfrey, gravely.
Helena took in a quick breath. If the woman was about to ask her to swear not to meet with him again here at Hogwarts, she could tell her in all honesty that she had already told him that the affair was over. And not mention the fact, of course, that she was currently having second thoughts about that. Although, she was beginning to wonder if Pomfrey, despite her honest admiration of her good qualities, had been quite as blind to her deceitful side as her other instructors had been. That she, in fact, might be second only to Snape in her understanding of her inherently duplicitous nature.
Pomfrey arose from her seat and went to sit on the bed, stretching out her hand.
Helena put her own hand into it, still rather puzzled at her solemn manner.
"Did he use physical force with you?"
Helena blinked, startled at the question. "No!" she cried, clearly shocked at the suggestion.
"Well-" Pomfrey squeezed her hand. "I have to make sure. Your injuries yesterday were consistent with a fall. But, abused witches are always coming in to be treated claiming that they had ‘been clumsy’. Please don’t lie to me, Helena," she added, her eyes burning with intensity.
For a brief moment, Helena guiltily remembered her injured wrist. But, honestly, she couldn’t really blame Severus for resorting to twisting her wrist in order to get her to drop the wand.
***Merlin knows if I had been able to think clearly enough to get a curse out of my mouth, he would have ended up with something much worse than a bruise. And, he clearly could have hurt me a lot worse than he did once he had disarmed me. Instead, he healed me.***
"I swear to you," said Helena, squeezing Pomfrey’s hand, "that you needn’t worry about Severus using physical force with me." Her eyebrows suddenly drew together, "Or throwing me down a flight of stairs, if that’s what you’re insinuating?"
Pomfrey nodded but still look concerned. "It certainly sounded like you two had just had a major falling out?"
Helena nodded.
Pomfrey hesitated again, and then looked deeply into the girl’s eyes. "You weren’t despondent, were you?"
Suddenly understanding, Helena laughed shortly and shook her head. "No, that wouldn’t be my style." She threw back her head and studied the ceiling for a moment. "Now, actually, in retrospect, I might have considered giving myself a small injury in order to gain Severus’ sympathy after our fight. But, I would have contented myself with a stumble down say, two or three steps. And a mildly twisted ankle. I assure you that I’m not stupid or reckless enough to hurl myself down a full flight of stone stairs," she added, with a wry smile.
Pomfrey nodded and returned the smile. "I think I’m beginning to realize why you two get on so well together. But, may I suggest-" she began.
Helena looked at her quizzically.
"That purposefully throwing your attentions to another man in just order to make Severus jealous is also not the wisest move as far as he is concerned? Or the nicest, as far as Lewis is concerned" she added, pointedly.
Helena nodded her head. "Agreed." She waited a moment, and then drew in a quick breath. "So are you going to tell anyone?"
Pomfrey frowned.
"I should," she hissed, grimly.
Helena waited again.
"But I won’t" she admitted. "Unless," she warned, her tone leaving no doubt that she was absolutely serious. "You show up in my wing again for any reason before you leave for Mediwitch School. And then, believe me, I will be telling everything to Dumbledore even if I end up dismissed for not telling him about it to begin with. No matter what you excuses you come up with," she finished.
"Thank you," said Helena.
Pomfrey stood and pointed her wand at the basin of water, reheating it. "Better hurry up, your friends will be here soon."
Helena nodded and turned her attention to the soap and water. And then, suddenly, a thought occurred to her. "Madam Pomfrey?"
The Mediwitch paused and turned to look at her.
"Thank you for arranging to let us have some time alone together yesterday. It was very kind of you to volunteer to escort my mother and grandmother out so we could talk."
A strange expression passed over the Mediwitch’s face, to be replaced by look of vague bewilderment and sweet innocence. An expression that Helena herself was sure she had used on more than one occasion. "What do you mean, dear? You were sleeping and Severus was very carefully measuring out medicine when I returned."
Helena smiled at her. "Oh, of course." She hesitated for a moment.
"Something else you want to ask?" prompted Pomfrey.
"Is there any other reason why you aren’t trying to break us up?" Her eyes were openly and frankly inquisitive.
Pomfrey sighed and stared down at the floor for a moment. "If your relationship were to become known," she began, and then paused for a moment. "Let’s just say that I think there would be serious repercussions outside of Hogwarts should Professor Dumbledore be forced to ask for Severus’ resignation."
Another silence fell between the two women as Helena digested the information and tried to assess how much Pomfrey knew about Snape’s past and current association with Voldemort.
The Mediwitch sighed and threw up her hands in a gesture of acceptance. "And on the other hand," she noted, with a laugh, "Knowing how pigheaded and sneaky both of you can be, I highly doubt anyone could stop you from seeing each other anyway," she admitted.
****************************************
Thirty minutes later, her toilet complete, and a new gown on, Helena sat in bed and awaited her guests. Madam Pomfrey had checked the wound on her forehead once again and, declaring herself satisfied that it was completely healed, this time she had left the bandage off. Although she didn’t feel up to performing a cleansing spell, the girl had been contented to give her hair a good brushing and drawn it up in a ponytail. There ended up being four visitors, for when Madam Pomfrey opened the door to admit them into the room she saw that Des had decided to join her two roommates and Lewis in paying her a visit.
Both Lewis and Ang had small bouquets of flowers in their hands, which Madam Pomfrey whisked away to place into vases. Ang sat down on the bed and gave her a big hug while Des patted her affectionately on the arm. Lewis looked on with concern, and Helena noted with some amusement that, just as in her dream of the previous night, Kathleen kept her arm wrapped around his waist as if it were glued there.
Lewis’ gaze wandered over to the bottle that sat on her bedside table. Something about it intrigued him, and he picked it up, his eyes squinting in concentration. Kathleen, noticing the movement, looked over too.
"That looks like Snape’s writing!" she exclaimed.
"It certainly does," added Lewis, raising his eyebrows.
"Gee, lass, you certainly get top-drawer care don’t you?" teased Ang. "You not only get attended by the head of your house and the headmaster, but you get your medicines personally brewed by the head of Slytherin." She lowered her voice and whispered conspiratorially, "Maybe he’s trying to poison you."
"Oh, I doubt it," responded Helena, laughing. "Although, it I were on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team, I don’t think I’d be drinking it."
They all laughed, and then suddenly a high, piercing squeak came out of Kathleen’s mouth. "Lewis, look at your hand," she sputtered.
Lewis had replaced the bottle on the table, and was looking, with a puzzled expression, at the palm of his right hand. It was turning a brilliant shade of blue, the color darkening perceptibly as they watched. Helena felt her mouth go dry and her stomach grow sickly sour as a deep, throbbing pain started pounding in her head. She swallowed and somehow managed to put a cheery, amused expression on her face as she reached underneath the blankets to where her wand was lying.
"Just shows you how trusting he must be," she teased blithely. "Must be a spell put upon the bottle to make sure no one except Madam Pomfrey or me touches it," she suggested.
While all the others still had their eyes glued to the unusual sight, she whispered a spell under her breath, hoping that it would be effective through the coverings. Apparently it was, for now Lewis’ palm began to slowly return to its normal color.
"Huh, well at least it’s not a long-lasting spell," murmured Ang. "Anyone else want to try? Maybe girls will get pink instead of blue?" she suggested, with a giggle.
Helena hurriedly moved her own hand to pick up the bottle. "Let’s not press our luck," she said. "Knowing Snape’s gracious personality, it might explode next time," she remarked.
The other people chuckled again, although she could tell that both Lewis and Ang were looking at her with worried expressions on their faces.
"Actually, your color doesn’t look so good," said Ang, leaning forward and brushing her hand against her roommate’s forehead. It felt cold and clammy.
"Yeah, I know," responded Helena, weakly. She closed her eyes and took in a breath. "Sorry," she murmured to her visitors, as she opened her eyes again. She replaced the bottle on the nightstand. "I’ll be feeling just fine, and then all of a sudden, I start feeling kind of wobbly again-"
"Yes, indeed," broke in Pomfrey, bustling back into the room with the vases. "I think my patient needs some more rest." She placed the vases on the counter and then put her own hand upon Helena’s forehead and frowned at the feel of the cool, moist skin. "Lie down," she commanded.
Helena gratefully sank down into a reclining position.
"Guess we’d better get going, Hel," murmured Angelique.
"When can we visit again?" asked Lewis.
"Tonight after supper-but just for a few minutes," said Pomfrey.
The group prepared to beat a hasty retreat out the door.
"Sorry guys," whispered Helena. She closed her eyes and listened to the retreating footsteps. After they had echoed away into silence, she turned her head to the side and raised her hand up to her face, allowing a few stinging, burning tears to flow out of her eyes before wiping them away and bringing her emotions under control again. Madam Pomfrey would be back in a few moments, she had no doubt, and was going to give her a through examination. She would have to wait until later to give in to her despair.
Footsteps sounded outside again. And then she heard a low, whispered conversation. To her surprise, it was Kathleen’s face that was looking through the narrow partition.
"Can I come in?" she asked, timidly.
Helena nodded her head, too stunned to make any other response.
Her roommate walked over to the counter and left a small folder near the two vases. "I brought some notes and homework from your classes so far. We’re all helping out, keeping track of assignments and stuff" she said. A concerned look spread across her face, "Not that you have to look at any of it until you’re feeling better!" she added.
"Oh, that’s okay," replied Helena. "No, thanks, really," she amended, noting the look on the other girl’s face.
Kathleen nodded and turned to leave. She had actually left the small cubicle before she turned and walked back to stand next to the bed. To Helena’s surprise, her face was flushed and her eyes were gleaming with unshed tears.
"Oh, Helena, I’m so sorry, will you ever forgive me?" she whispered. Tears were now streaming down her face.
"What are you talking about?" replied Helena, reaching out to take the girl’s hand and give it a reassuring squeeze.
"Yesterday morning….." the girl paused, wiping at her eyes and struggling to find enough breath to continue. And then she sat down on the low stool that was sitting next to the bed. "I was right behind you, coming out our door. I even had my wand in my hand. And I saw your shoe catch in your robe."
Helena stared up at her, unsure of what she was about to confess to.
"But, I didn’t do anything to keep you from falling," she admitted, her tone anguished and guilty. "And, when I did see you start to fall, I just stood there. And then, I saw Lewis come out of his room and look down the stairs and when he saw it was you-" She paused again.
"Oh, Helena, the way he looked-he was so upset-and I was so jealous! I just went back in our room and did nothing while everyone took care of you." The tears were flowing unimpeded now, and mucous was flowing out of her nose. "Can you ever forgive me?"
"What in the world is going on here?"
Helena looked over. Pomfrey was back, and the look on her face was thunderous. "I said you could come back to leave that list of schoolwork, not to disturb my patient!"
"It’s all right, Madam Pomfrey, really," urged Helena. She threw a pleading look over to the Mediwitch. "Just give us a few more minutes, okay?"
Pomfrey stared at Helena for a moment, but reading the determination in her eyes, she contented herself with a "Humph", and drew back out of the cubicle again. An instant later, her hand, one finger extended out in a threatening gesture was shaking at them-"Two minutes, and that’s it!" she warned.
Helena patted Kathleen’s hand. "It’s all right, Kathleen, really. I know you didn’t do anything ‘magically’ to me to make me fall. I didn’t feel or hear any kind of spell."
"But I didn’t help you!" protested the girl, weakly.
"Well, I kind of had an abundance of help," she teased. "In fact, if I remember correctly, almost everyone else in Ravenclaw was gathered in a circle looking down at me," she recalled.
The remark did not seem to have a cheering effect on the girl.
"And, look-I understand," she added. "Look at me, Kathleen," she ordered.
The girl drew her hands up to her face and wiped away at her eyes and nose.
"If I were involved with Lewis and thought that he was paying attention to someone else-believe me, I’d be doing things a lot worse than anything you have every considered doing," she assured her.
***Including the fact that, up until this morning, I was fully prepared to take Lewis away from you using any means that I could. But, let’s not go into that right now.***
"It’s just that," Kathleen sputtered. "Well, he’s never paid much attention to me before, and all of a sudden, we were, um, getting along so well and, were even starting to, uh…" She hesitated again. "But, then I thought maybe he was only doing that because he was hurt because you had turned him down to go with that chap from Slytherin."
Helena kept her face still, although a part of her snickered to picture the expression on Severus’ face as he reacted to being called ‘that chap from Slytherin’. And then she turned her attention to Kathleen’s assumption of what Lewis’ motives were.
***Well, maybe no, maybe yes. I certainly doubt it would make you feel any better if I tell you that maybe he was leading you on to make sure he could get access to our room. And my desk. So he could keep stealing stuff to give to Malfoy.***
"My love life right now is a total disaster," she began. "So, I’m hardly one to be giving out advice," she began.
Kathleen nodded and sniffed as she wiped at her face again.
"I can’t tell you exactly what’s going on in Lewis’ mind right now, but," she hesitated, not wanting to hurt the girl any more than she already was.
***Oh, my, how unselfish of you. Too bad you weren’t so concerned about her when you were sure of Lewis’ affections before. No, then you were ready to trample all over her-and her feelings-if needed, to get to him. Funny how being betrayed yourself has made you so empathetic for others.***
"Maybe it would be best to take things really slow until both of you are sure about this relationship," she finished, lamely.
Kathleen dropped her head and looked exceedingly glum for a moment.
"But, you’re not interested in him?" she whispered, hopefully.
Helena reached out to take her hand again, ignoring the fact that it was rather slimy now. "On that point, I can assure you," she replied. "Whatever has been between us in the past, I swear to you that I will never, ever be considering Lewis as a boyfriend again," she proclaimed.
Kathleen smiled faintly and rose from her seat as Pomfrey marched back into the room. She shrugged her shoulders apologetically at the Mediwitch and shuffled out of the room.
"What was all that about?" inquired Pomfrey, with raised eyebrows.
Helena sighed and shook her head. "Kathleen and I had to clear the air about some issues," she replied, distractedly.
The Mediwitch squinted her eyes and waited for further clarification, but there was none forthcoming.
"Well, better get some rest," she urged. "We’re going to have to start working out and stretching those new bones soon," she added, grimly.
Helena nodded and closed her eyes again, turning her face towards the opposite wall.
"Anything I can do for you, dear?" asked Pomfrey.
***Well, let’s see. What I would really like is to have Severus here so that we could talk about all this. I don’t even care that he’s going to laugh his ass off about how my ‘nice little friend’ has been a spy for Malfoy all these years. As long as he makes up for it with a nice, hard fuck. Because I sure need one right about now.***
"Just some time alone," she said aloud.
The Mediwitch retired from the room again.
Helena sighed and swallowed back her tears for a moment. When she had placed the spell upon her desk drawer, enchanting it so that the culprit’s hand would turn blue when in her presence, she had thought that the worst scenario would be to find out it was Ang or Kathleen who had betrayed her. It had never entered her mind that Lewis was the one who was spying on her. But, it made perfect sense, didn’t it? He was always paying very careful attention to her. In fact, he had been the only one to really notice how strange she was acting that week that she first had sex with Snape. She wondered how much Malfoy had been paying him, and how long he had been in his employ. And if Lewis had ever really liked her, or if his concern the past week had been simply fear that Malfoy would be angry with him for allowing her to be hurt. Not that Malfoy cared for her, of course. But he obviously needed something from her, and presumably she needed to be healthy in order for him to…..use her.
And then she gave up trying to think logically and coldly about the whole situation. She turned her face to the pillow and sobbed uncontrollably for a moment. She was miserable. And she wanted Severus. And she hoped to hell that he still wanted her.
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Secretly Slytherin